Sweet Child Of Mine
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Challenge WOW: Warm Sam and Dean have been kidnapped with no idea where their Daddy is. And what’s worse, they’re both sick. Wee!Chesters Sam: 2 Dean: 6 sick!Sammy and sick!Dean
1. Chapter 1

Challenge WOW: Warm

Summary: Sam and Dean have been kidnapped with no idea where their Daddy is. And what's worse, they're both sick. Wee!Chesters Sam: 2 Dean: 6 sick!Sammy and sick!Dean

Word Count: 1,006

**Sweet Child of Mine**

They were thrown into a dark room. It was cold and there was no light. Dean immediately grabbed Sam and held him to him. Sammy was sick, he didn't need to be here in the cold.

The man smiled, showing lots of teeth. Dean hugged Sam a little tighter.

"You two just stay put like good boys and you don't get hurt, got it?" The man said. Dean scowled at him. He wouldn't hurt Sammy. No one touched Sammy. The man left, leaving them in the dark.

Sammy coughed, burying his face in his big brother's shirt.

"I 'un Daddy," He groaned, coughing hard.

"It's otay, Sammy," Dean assured, feeling Sam's fevered forehead. "Daddy'll find us. Itta be otay."

Sam curled in a ball in Dean's lap, shivering. Dean turned away and coughed. He didn't feel good either, but Sam took priority. Sam was shivering, the cold air hurting his skin. He started to cry.

"'S 'told, Dean," he sobbed. Dean took off his long-sleeved shirt and wrapped it around his crying brother.

"Shh…'s otay, i's otay."

He held his little brother in the dark, keeping his face in his shoulder and trying to calm his fears and keep him warm. And he knew Daddy would save them soon.

He fell asleep a little while later, cradling Sam close. His throat hurt, his body ached, his head hurt and he had a fever, but he had to keep Sammy safe. He sniffed, tears in his eyes.

"Mommy…"

* * *

He woke up to Sam squirming in his sleep.

"Sammy, Sammy, i's otay, stop," he said, shaking him lightly to wake him up. "Shh…wake up, Sammy. Shh…" Sam opened his eyes and looked up at him. They were bright with fever and bloodshot. Dean hated seeing his brother like this. He would usually have called Daddy and gotten Sam some soup and his little kid Tylenol to make him feel better. He would have given him his teddy bear and turned on Thundercats.

He couldn't here. The most he could do here was wrap him up tight in his shirt and rock him, which is what he was doing right now.

The door opened. Dean hugged Sam closer, hiding his face from it. A tray slid across the ground. Before the door closed again, a blanket fell next to the tray.

"I'll be righ' back, Sammy," he whispered, gently setting Sam on the floor. Sam whimpered, his head resting against the cold concrete corner. Dean picked up the blanket and the tray, his body shaking. He felt so awful. He just wanted to sleep, he wanted to be warm, he wanted his Daddy.

But he had to take care of Sammy. He had to protect his little brother. The soup was still warm, but there wasn't enough for both of them. He went over to Sam, wrapping the blanket around him. He sat down and gently coaxed Sam's mouth open, tipping the spoon. Sam ate slowly for awhile without complaint. Until he saw that Dean wasn't eating.

"D-Dean, you ea'," he said, turning his head away from the spoon.

"I'm otay, Sammy. You eat," his hands were shaking. Sam shook his head.

"Pwease…" His eyes were watering. Dean sighed and ate half a spoonful. His stomach growled, but he wouldn't eat anymore, no matter how bad he wanted it. He fed Sam the rest and gave him all of the water except one sip that Sam made him take.

Sam was curled against him now, wrapped up tight in the blanket. Dean was shaking, freezing, but he had to stay strong. He had to take care of Sammy, he _had_ to.

The door opened again. A man stepped inside, smiling with all of sharp teeth showing. Dean set Sam down, standing in front of him, guarding him. The man laughed.

"Tough guy, huh?" He chuckled. Dean scowled. "I'll be sure to tell your daddy what a big guy you were."

"My Daddy's gonna kick your ass," he growled. The man frowned and backhanded him. Dean fell to the ground, blood in his mouth.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. Dean pushed himself up, still scowling at the man.

"Little shit," the man snapped, slapping him. Dean fell again. And again, and again, until he couldn't get up anymore.

"Dean…" Sam sobbed, looking up at the man and down at his brother. The man laughed, using his foot to turn Dean over.

"Not so tough now, are ya, little guy?" he laughed and left the room.

"Dean?" Sam cried, his chubby fingers clinging to the blanket, scared.

Dean grunted and pushed himself up, crawling over to his baby brother, his face bruised and bloodied. He put Sam in his lap again. The younger Winchester looked up at him, his innocent face covered in tears.

"Otay?" he asked. Dean's lower lip trembled, tears in his eyes.

"I wan' Daddy too."

* * *

Sam coughed all night. Dean did too. Their fevers were high, making them both weak. They both cried, wanting to go home, wanting their Daddy.

But Daddy didn't come. Dean dozed into another fitful sleep, holding Sam tight, so cold it hurt. Sam was asleep, fresh tears still on his cheeks. Dean sniffed, his fingers holding his little brother so tight his fingers hurt, just like when he'd carried him out of the fire.

Dean vaguely heard the door open. He heard heavy footsteps, two pair, coming toward him. He felt Sam get taken out of his arms no matter how tight he tried to hold on.

"NO!" he screamed, sobbing. "Not Sammy, don't take Sammy, please! Not Sammy…Sammy!"

"Dean, Dean, stop, stop it's okay," Hands lightly held his shoulders. One moved to his cheek, cradling his face. "Shh, shhhsh, look at me, buddy, it's Daddy. It's Daddy."

Tear-filled eyes filled with hope.

"Daddy?"

Tbc…

--Thank you. Please Review--


	2. Chapter 2

**Sweet Child of Mine**

"Daddy?" John engulfed his son in his arms, hugging him tight and close. Dean started to cry again.

"It's okay, it's okay, son. Shh…" He soothed. "Everything's okay now, shh…"

"S-Sammy, where's S-Sammy?" He gulped.

"Shh, he's with Uncle Bobby. He's alright," John assured. Dean shook his head, pulling away from his father.

"N-n-no, Daddy, he-he's sick. I tri-tried to take c-care of him, D-Daddy, but-"

"Hey, hey, Dean, listen to me. It's okay, buddy. I know you took care of him. You did good, you did so good," John said softly. He looked down at him. He felt Dean's forehead, cringing once he did. "Dean, you're burnin' up."

"I 'on' feel good, D-Daddy. B-but Sammy-"

"Shh, Sammy's gonna be fine. He'll be just fine, okay?" He moved to cup his son's cheek again. Dean whimpered when his hand touched a scraped bruise on his cheek. John frowned. "What's wrong, buddy? What's the matter?" He asked frantically.

"M'-m' face, D-Daddy," he mumbled. John gently touched Dean's chin, turning his face into the light. He was shaking with chills, his cheeks were flushed. There was a large bruise on his cheekbone and a cut above his eyebrow. The other side of his face was scraped; there was a deep blue bruise on his jaw.

"What happened, Dean? Did they hurt you?" He demanded. Dean nodded.

"He c-coulda hurt S-Sammy," he choked. "I m-made him h-hurt m-me." A wave of sadness and a deep, burning hate washed over him.

"And those sons a bitches hurt you?!" He bellowed. Dean winced away from him, scared. John's expression and tone softened, chastising himself for scaring his son. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm not mad at you," he hugged him again. "They won't hurt you anymore, buddy. I promise," he smiled lightly at him. "You're my brave boy, huh? My big boy?" Dean nodded again, trying to hide his tears. John winced, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over Dean's shoulders. Dean sniffed, crying again but trying hard not to.

"It's alright, Dean," John assured, hugging him again. Dean cried harder.

"I w-wanna go ho-home, Daddy," he sobbed, nuzzling his face in John's chest. "Pl-please."

John's heart twisted at the raw plea in Dean's voice. "We're goin' home, buddy. It's okay."

Something blocked the light in the door. John hugged Dean a little tighter and turned, one hand on the .45 in his waistband.

Bobby was holding a crying Sam, bouncing him lightly to try and calm him down.

"I 'un Da'ee," Sam bawled. "I 'un Da'ee…"

"John," Bobby said over Sam's cries. Dean winced at his brother's tears.

"Sammy…" He whispered. John rubbed the back of his head. Bobby stepped forward and handed the baby to his kneeling father.

"Da'ee," Sam sobbed. John held Sam on his hip and hugged Dean on the other side. He had his boys back.

Sam wrapped his tiny arms around John's neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Da'ee, Da'ee…" he cried.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay, Sammy."

"I 'un home."

"Okay. Okay, it's alright, Sammy. We're goin'," he stood. "You're safe now, boys. It's alright." He walked to the door, holding his sick boys close. He looked at Bobby once he was close enough and whispered very quietly,

"Keep that blood-sucker alive. He thinks he can get away with hurting my boys he's dead wrong."

"He's locked up tight with some dead man's blood in 'im. He's not goin anywhere," Bobby assured, equally as quiet. "I'll drive you guys. My place is closer than that stinkin' motel."

"Thanks," John said. Sam squirmed in his arms. Dean groaned softly. "It's okay, boys. We're goin'."

"Da'ee…" Sam sniffed.

"Daddy," Dean cried.

"Shh…it's alright, it's alright. I'm here now, boys. It's okay." He hugged them a little tighter before walking out of the room.

Tbc…

--thank you. please review--


	3. Chapter 3

**Sweet Child of Mine**

John lied Dean down on a bed, covering him up and tightly tucking the blankets around him.

"Stay here a minute, Dean. I'll be right back, okay?" He said gently. Dean nodded weakly.

The thermometer in Sam's mouth beeped. John took it out and read the numbers. He went slightly pale.

"Alright, Sammy, you come with me, I'll be right back, Dean," he said, walking into the bathroom.

Dean shivered under the blankets, burying his face in the pillow under his head. He heard the water start to run in the other room, filling up the bathtub.

Bobby came in the room and looked down at Dean, putting the back of his hand on his forehead.

"Alright, sit up, kid," he said gently. Dean did with Bobby's help. Bobby tipped the medicine into Dean's mouth. Dean grimaced at the taste. "I know, Dean, I know. Drink it all, okay?" Dean obliged and lied back down.

The water in the bathroom shut off. Then Sam started to cry, hard and loud.

"No, no, no, no!" He sobbed. "'S t'old, Da'ee!"

"Shh, I know Sammy. Just for a little bit, alright."

"Daaaa'eeeee…" Sam bawled.

Dean started to cry, confused.

"It's alright, Dean," Bobby said, rubbing his back.

"Why is Daddy hurting Sammy?" He sniffed.

"No, Dean, he's not hurting him. He's trying to get his fever down, that's all," he assured. Dean stared at the bathroom door, his chest hurting from his brother's tears.

"Dee'," Sam called. "Dee'!"

"Sammy," Dean croaked.

"It's alright, Dean. Sam's okay," Bobby said. Dean continued to look at the door until John came out holding Sam, who was dressed and wrapped in a blanket, hair damp. John carefully lied him down in the large recliner across the room, draping another blanket over him and rubbing his forehead.

"It's okay, Sammy," he whispered. He sat there for a moment, stroking Sam's hair back, waiting for his eyes to close. Sam hugged his battered teddy bear and shut his eyes, falling asleep. John stood gingerly and went to his oldest son, who was crying and shaking. John nodded to Bobby, who stood.

"Come get me if ya need help," he said before leaving the room.

John looked down at Dean.

"What's wrong, buddy?" He asked, smiling lightly.

"Wh-why'd you hurt Sammy?" He asked, innocent eyes swimming. John's heart clenched.

"I…I wasn't hurting him. His fever was too high, buddy. I had to cool him off, okay? I wouldn't hurt Sammy," He assured. Dean nodded and shut his eyes, crying still.

"It hur's Daddy," he sobbed, "It hur's bad." John scooped Dean into his lap, draping the comforter over him.

"Shh…It's alright buddy. It's okay. Shh…" He soothed.

"I want Mommy," he whimpered. John shut his eyes, the words hitting him like a sledgehammer to the gut. Dean sobbed into John's shirt. "Mommy…Mommy…"

John blinked tears back, swallowing the large lump in his throat.

"It's alright, Dean. I miss Mommy too. Shh…" There was nothing he could do. And he hated it.

"Mommy…" John rocked his little boy, trying to calm him and get him to sleep, and trying to stop himself from crying with little success.

"Daddy?" Dean looked up at him. John sniffed and blinked furiously before looking back at him, smiling lightly.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Can you sing her song for me?" He asked, lips shaking. Another sledgehammer, bigger tears, fake smile.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Yeah Dean." He took a breath, holding Dean to him, tears slipping down his cheeks without his consent as he began to sing the song he'd sworn to never speak of or listen to again.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better…"

Tbc…

--aww--


	4. Chapter 4

**Sweet Child of Mine**

Dean was asleep on the bed. The medicine had helped his fever by a fraction, and some sleep would do him some good. John was standing between the bed and the recliner Sam was in, watching his boys sleep.

"They alright?" Bobby asked, coming up behind him. John nodded.

"Sammy's gonna need medicine soon. But they're both alright," he said in a low voice.

"Then what's wrong with you?" John sighed.

"Dean misses Mary. He cried for her for about an hour."

Bobby's brow creased, understanding his mood.

"What am I supposed to tell him, Bobby? 'Sorry, Dean, Mommy's never coming back and you'll just have to deal with it'? I can't do that to him. And I can't tell him that she'll be here. What am I supposed to do?" John asked helplessly.

"Tell him…tell him that he can't see her, but she can see him. Tell him she's watching him all the time, and she's with him every day. That's what you tell him," Bobby whispered. John nodded.

"Okay," he glanced at his watch. He took the Children's Tylenol off of the nightstand and poured a dose. "Sammy," He said gently, lifting him up into a sitting position. "Sammy, wake up, buddy." Sam's eyes opened slowly. He grunted in discomfort, squirming.

"Shh, it's alright Sammy. Sit up," he said gently. He got Sam to drink his medicine after the third try. "There ya go, buddy. You can go back to sleep." Sam shook his head, frustrated.

"No, I 'un Dee'. I 'un Dee'," he said, crying.

"Okay, okay, shh…" John urged. He didn't need Dean to wake up too. He stood, holding Sam, and walked over to the bed, lying him next to his brother. Sam draped his arm over his brother, nuzzling his face into his chest. Dean's eyes cracked open and he hugged his baby brother close.

"Sammy…"

They both fell asleep, just trying to be there for the other.

John put Sam's teddy bear under his arm and draped his blanket over him. He rubbed the back of Dean's head, making sure the bruises and scrapes on his face weren't infected. They were going to be alright.

And now, he had a Vampire to deal with.

"I'll be back, Bobby," he said, grabbing his jacket.

"Don't make too big of a mess," Bobby warned. John flexed his jaw.

"I'll try."

* * *

John came back around dawn, bloody and dirty. The Bloodsucker was dead, past dead, he had made sure of it. The last thing you ever wanted to do was mess with his boys. He took a shower and checked on Sam and Dean again.

Their fevers had broken, thankfully. He sighed and collapsed in the recliner, letting himself drift into sleep. For a few hours anyway.

"Daddy," Dean whispered. John heard a low growl. "Daddy, I'm hungry."

"Hung'ee, Da'ee!" Sam squealed, jumping on his stomach.

"Oh!" John sat up, taking Sam off of his chest. He smiled. "Alright, alright, c'mon."

He took Dean's hand and hoisted Sam up onto his hip. His boys.

**END**

--Thank you guys! More soon!!--


End file.
